


melt, melt

by scribespirare



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: But thats just canon, Ciel being a lordly brat, Cuddling, Fluff, Hypothermia, M/M, One-Shot, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 09:08:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28561077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribespirare/pseuds/scribespirare
Summary: Ciel falls into a frozen lake and needs to be warmed up.
Relationships: Sebastian Michaelis/Ciel Phantomhive
Comments: 13
Kudos: 185





	melt, melt

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this and immediately knew I was in trouble b/c it was so _horny_ and it literally took all of my willpower to keep these two from necking and getting dicks involved. namely b/c i was writing it for a friend of mine, who is underage. so cheers Cor, i did this for you

“Is this completely necessary?” Ciel’s voice is breathy and comes from between lips that have nearly turned blue with cold. Still, there’s no mistaking the scorn or anger in his tone.

Sebastian shifts Ciel’s weight in his arms and very patiently tells him, “Yes, Young Master, I’m afraid it is.”

The fireplace in his study is practically roaring, though Ciel is pretty sure it had been all but embers when they’d first walked into the room. He’s also wrapped up tight in what has to be at least three separate blankets; usually sinfully soft, the fibers feel coarse and painful against his icy skin.

“Why can’t you just run me a hot bath?” Ciel asks next, trying and failing not to whine like a child. But it’s hard not to feel like one when you’re being swaddled by someone thrice your size.

“Because that would send your body into shock,” his butler explains patiently, seating himself on the study’s couch. Impertinent. Servants are not meant to use the furniture in the main house, only what’s designated to them in the servants quarters, and Sebastian knows this. But before Ciel can muster up a complaint, his swaddling of blankets are being torn away. “What-!”

“Hush, Young Master,” Sebastian chides him, and positions Ciel comfortably in his lap. “We must get you out of these wet clothes.”

The rush of warm air from the fire shocks Ciel and sends uncomfortable shudders through his body, preventing him from responding. Sebastian works quickly to divest him of sodden coat, tie, shirt, breeches, eyepatch, shoes, and socks. Normally his hands are cool to the touch, fingers raising gentle goosebumps in their wake as they trail Ciel’s bare skin. But today they feel almost molten and Ciel wants to squirm away from their uncomfortable heat.

“Are you doing that on purpose?” Ciel finally manages to ask, locking his jaw so it doesn’t chatter. He’s finally naked and his skin is a chilly, uncomfortable grey, and still damp.

“Doing what?” Sebastian asks, setting aside the last of Ciel’s clothes. Even his lap where Ciel is perched feels almost too warm to be comfortable.

“Making yourself warmer. Your fingers feel like brands.”

The demon huffs a laugh. “Young Master, you fell into a frozen lake. I imagine everything feels warmer than usual right now. That bath you so desperately want would probably feel like being boiled alive.”

Ciel sits with that mental image for a moment as Sebastian gathers up the discarded blankets, undoubtedly to swaddle him with again. He can think of nothing else he wants less right now, and waves them away. “Put those down. I’m not an infant.”

“No, sir, you’re just freezing,” Sebastian deadpans in response, but obediently folds and sets the blankets aside. When he’s done, Ciel grabs at his hands; elegant hands, the demon’s, with spindly fingers and narrow palms, always covered in pristine white cloth. Ciel pulls those gloves off with little regard for them, and swears he sees Sebastian wince over it from the corner of his eye. Good. The demon should have caught him _before_ he fell into the lake, not after.

“Here,” Ciel demands, placing one bare hand on his stomach. “And here,” he guides the other to the small of his back. Without the gloves they feel even hotter now, and his skin prickles in discomfort. When Sebastian doesn’t react, simply looking down at him with curiosity, Ciel rolls his eyes at him. “Warm me up.”

“Young Master, you’re still wet.”

“We own towels.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Sebastian shifts Ciel off of his lap to go in search of one, and instead of feeling like an infant, Ciel instead feels like a displaced cat, bitter over being forced to leave their owner’s lap. When Sebastian returns, towel in hand, Ciel purposefully pulls him back down to the couch so he can sit on him again, despite his earlier chagrin about staff being on the furniture.

If Sebastian is surprised by this, he doesn’t show it. Only takes the towel to Ciel’s body with a calm thoroughness that has Ciel’s eyes drooping within moments. By the time he’s dry and Sebastian is just running bare hands over his body, slowly warming him with them, Ciel is leaned against his chest and nearly asleep. His skin is adjusting to the roar of the nearby fire as well as Sebastian’s molten touch and eventually his shuddering and shivers die down.

There’s a pattern to Sebastian’s touch that Ciel, half-awake, starts to notice. One hand will pause and rest in a single spot; his thigh, his stomach, his chest, the small of his back, or the nape of his neck. The other hand will rub slow circles on the other side of his body, methodically moving lower and lower. Ciel again thinks maybe this is what being a cat feels like, and no sooner does he think this than the urge to stretch over takes him. He gives in, spreading toes and fingers and shoving his hands out until his shoulders pop pleasingly, before curling up against Sebastian once more. Sebastian who laughs softly at him and goes right back to petting, which pleases Ciel greatly.

“Young Master?”

“Mm.”

“We should get you to bed, or into that bath you wanted.”

Ciel turns and burrows his face in the crook between Sebastian’s shoulder and chin. “No.”

“No?”

“I’m quite comfortable where I am, actually.”

Sebastian murmurs something that might perhaps be _spoiled_ but is weirdly warm with affection and desire. Louder, he says, “You cannot sleep here, Young Master.”

Ciel stirs a little, just enough that he can lean back and glare at his butler. “And just why not?”

“It’s not good for your health,” his butler responds calmly, to which Ciel snorts and curls back up against him.

“You’re warmer than the fire, Sebastian. I think I should be quite comfortable here all night and not get a single chill.”

“I have other duties to attend to,” is Sebastian’s next argument, though his palm never ceases the circles it's making on Ciel’s stomach. His hand is so large, and Ciel so small next to him, that it covers Ciel almost completely from belly button to sternum.

“What could be more pressing than directly serving your Lord?” Ciel mutters darkly.

There’s silence for a moment, except for the crackle and pop of a fire that has started its death throws, before Sebastian heaves a sigh of surrender. Overly dramatic as always, as Ciel knows for a fact that he doesn’t actually need to breathe in the first place.

“Alright, Young Master. But can we at least move to your bed? You’ll be far more comfortable there.”

Ciel considers resisting yet again; he’s perfectly comfortable here after all, and would be the rest of the night so long as Sebastian continues petting him. But he gives in with the shrug of one skinny shoulder. “Fine. But don’t stop touching me.”

That pulls another low huff of laughter out of Sebastian, who agrees to Ciel’s terms easily enough. “Yes, my Lord.” 

**Author's Note:**

> check out some of the other sebaciel ive written if you liked this, and also come follow me on [tumblr](https://scribespirare.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
